On Children’s Day, we recall Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru’s belief that children shape a nation’s future. The irony, though, is that post-Independence India was long ruled by Nehru’s descendants. This tension between inherited power and earned place — as highlighted by a recent investigation by The Indian Express and its discussion in these pages — is embedded in our public life. It is precisely here that the recent triumph of the Indian women’s cricket team offers an ethical lesson.
In a country where the accident of birth predicts opportunity, where vast sections have been marginalised for long, their presence on the world stage signals something rare: A level playing field actually achieved, not merely promised. Each of these young women had to earn recognition in spaces where girls are still frequently told to step aside. Their coach, too, did not claim authority through lineage. He earned trust by respecting them as athletes, not as exceptions.
This achievement stands in marked contrast to many aspects of our culture, where dynastic succession is frequently treated as natural, even inevitable. The issue is not that a politician’s child cannot be capable; it is that they seldom need to establish capability before being granted power. Democracy is weakened when public leadership resembles inheritance more than responsibility.
Aristotle defined justice as giving each person what they deserve, determined by the purpose, or telos, of the activity. Politics, too, has a telos — to serve the common good. When leadership is claimed through ancestry rather than commitment, public life shifts from service to entitlement. A society built on such entitlement risks repeating an old story — one at the heart of the Mahabharata. There was a fight over a kingdom because a father believed his son had a right to the throne. In that struggle, reason lost to attachment and fairness to lineage. When inheritance dictates authority, the result is conflict and literal and moral blindness.
The lesson endures in modern times. When power becomes a family possession, the community loses its share in decision-making. A child in a small town who dreams of serving the nation begins to wonder if effort matters at all.
India is young, a majority of its population under 35. Across households, the hope is the same: That children may learn, work, and rise through their ability. The greatest responsibility we bear, then, is to create the conditions of fairness: Examinations that are not leaked, opportunities not purchased, institutions not captured by those already powerful. A true Children’s Day tribute is not sentiment; it is commitment to this work. On Children’s Day, can we, adults, pledge to them, to all children, not just our children, that we will do all it takes to level their playing field. If they have a handicap because of their history, we will give them a leg-up and do whatever it takes to ensure equity and equality. Happy Children’s Day to all of us.
The writer is the author of Being Good, Aaiye, Insaan Banen and Ethikos. He teaches and trains courses on ethics, values and behaviour
